


Diet Mountain Dew

by stephanericher



Series: Tomorrow [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rukia becomes fed up with the infrequency of her rendezvouses with Kisuke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diet Mountain Dew

The August afternoon was humid and smoggy. Weather inside the Seireitei wasn't always beautiful and pristine, but it didn't ever get like this. Rukia could feel the water in the air, almost cracking (could water do that?) under the pressure and tiredness of the day. It wanted to be over but there were still many hours left, time to get even hotter and stickier. A sigh dragged its way out of her lips, wrenching itself somehow from her chest, dragging onward like the faint pseudo-sunbeams from the grey sky.

"The weather's not exactly what you're used to, I'm sorry."

 _No, you're not. Liar._ She grinned at him. He'd offered to take her to this new cafe in Karakura, and when she'd expressed her doubts (she'd experienced Karakura summers before) he wouldn't take no for an answer. But that was Kisuke for you, she supposed.

He grinned back and took a sip of water. Though he'd just had it refilled, the thick ice cubes had already melted and the glass was perspiring with condensation, leaving behind a puddle twice as big as the glass itself on the table. A bead of sweat rolled down his chin, and he pulled out his fan.

Rukia had to admit that the food and service were both excellent. Why no place like this had been around when she was masquerading as a high schooler she had no idea but better late than never, she supposed. Idly, she ran her finger over the rim of her glass of diet soda.

Even if the weather was disgusting, her time with Kisuke was becoming less and less frequent. The last time they'd had any real contact was a few months prior. It was really getting out of hand, she thought, wanting to sigh again but this time holding it in.

* * *

Of course, he knew it, too. Even if he didn't know everything, she'd know he knew from the way he took extra care holding her hand and from the way he'd pressed himself extra hard against her, even without turning on the air conditioning, even with the inside of his house just as hot and humid as the whole town, and from the way he made the extra sweat inconsequential.

Then again, he always did that.

She nibbled on his ear, relishing the sweet hums of contentment that she hadn't heard in so long, and trailing kisses down his jawline and neck, to his collarbone. He bucked his hips up against hers, and he was so slim that even though he practically dwarfed her his hips were narrower than hers but they still fit just right and he moved his hands from her bare waist downward, catching her skirt and panties in his large, scarred hands and sliding them off. She spread her freed legs and curled them around his midsection, drawing him in.

* * *

"Kisuke." She lightly drummed her fingers on his palm.

"Mm?"

"Come with me."

"I think we took care of that."

She ignored his attempt at levity. "No, come back with me. Marry me."

He opened his eyes and lifted his head off the pillow to meet her gaze.

"I don't like going months without seeing you. I don't like coming home to a giant, empty house every night. The Kuchiki elders want me to produce an heir. Please. Jinta and Ururu are old enough to take care of the shop."

He stared at her carefully. "All right." He flopped back down, burying his face in the pillow and pulling her close to him.

"That's...it?"

"Yeah, I thought you might ask. So I'm ready." His voice was muffled but intelligible.

She considered her next words carefully, but before she could decide on how to pose the million questions she had, he answered them for her, turning his head and speaking with utmost seriousness and sincerity.

"Yes, I'm sure. Yes, I've thought about it. Don't worry about me."

He'd probably open up another branch of the shop or something. It wouldn't surprise her if he'd already bought a plot of land for that purpose and had a miniature prefabricated shop that he would just plop down, come to think of it.

* * *

He licked a trail up her inner thigh, feeling the vibrations of her shivering against him and arousing him even further. She didn't taste quite as salty and sweaty this time, and neither did the cool, light night air. He placed his tongue on her other thigh and she whined in anticipation, squeezing her legs together. Her hands, which had been tracing indiscernable patterns on his back, now gripped his shoulders tightly. He moved his tongue ever-so-slightly more upward and she writhed beneath him, opening her legs again. He took that as an invitation.

Her left hand migrated from his shoulder to his hair, clutching at his blonde strands as she moved and moaned, hotter and wetter than any afternoon.

Her release was quick, and she lay panting and sweating, her fingers slack against his head and shoulder.

* * *

Now that every young officer wanted Kisuke's help, it was only right that he charged a premium price. After all, he couldn't just offer lessons every second of every day, and they were all willing to pay whatever money they had. Still, it wasn't fair to have so many potential customers cut off from doing business with him altogether, so he'd call in favors and cajole the more experienced officers to spar with him before a paid audience. Even Captain-Commander Kyoraku, in an effort to shirk his regular duty and to annoy his lieutenant ("Sweet Nanao-chan, I am contributing to the future!" was his go-to reasoning), would join in upon occasion. And in rare instances, his wife would spar with him.

The consensus reached by regular audience members was that these were far and away the best matches, not because of sheer force or technique but because of the intimacy with which the pair knew one another, from speed and accuracy down to every minute physical affectation.

* * *

"I love you." They rarely spoke it; they rarely had to.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

They didn't doubt forever, though it wasn't a given. They just held firmly onto one another.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on fanfiction.net (5/24/13)
> 
> Music: "Diet Mountain Dew" by Lana del Rey.


End file.
